


see us in the real life

by sneakiest



Series: so hot you're hurting my feelings [2]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No COVID-19, Anal Fingering, Blowjobs, Closeted Character, Dirty Talk, Embarrassment, Facials, M/M, Messy, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Prostate Massage, Sexting, a brief cameo from ten, a little bit of choking/gagging but not much, an even briefer cameo from mark's mom, handjobs, mentions of marijuana use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:14:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24171871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sneakiest/pseuds/sneakiest
Summary: He's never gone out with anyone he already hooked up with before. Mark's really expanding his horizons with Johnny. It's novel.--Or: Sexting, a weird date or two, and how Mark remedies owing Johnny a few orgasms.
Relationships: Mark Lee/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Series: so hot you're hurting my feelings [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1724089
Comments: 68
Kudos: 610





	see us in the real life

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically a direct sequel to [a different kind of tension](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23918650), and while you don't necessarily need to have read that first, it'll help! Thanks so much to M, Tay, and the Discord crew for listening to me scream about how this monster has grown into a full-fledged series. (Seriously, there's a third to come.) Finally, thanks to Meg for the beta. You're a champ! <3
> 
> Title from Dua Lipa's "Cool."

Mark, to his utter horror, discovers that when his lightweight self (a self that is still slightly convinced weed is the first step on the stairwell to degeneracy thanks to a whole lot of involvement in church skits) eats one of the edibles Lucas gifted him as a farewell present, he sexts. Real bad. As in, he's transparently horny _and_ awful about it. His text log with Johnny before that night was a combination of emojis, flirty check-ins, attempts to set a time to hang again, and a selfie of Mark rapping, mic close to his face, his free hand gesturing, in a disco-ball-lit karaoke room. 

**Johnny:** Can't do Saturday, Sehun's replacement roomie decided to break the lease a week after they signed it and we have to be around to show off the house to prospectives all day. You busy Sunday?  
**Mark:** big yikes!!!  
**Mark:** busy sunday but free most of the week  
**Mark:** i swear my schedule is usually a lot less weird lol

And then, after Johnny's innocuous fucking thumbs-up emoji, there it is, timestamped 1:41 a.m.:

 **Mark:** definitely fingering myself thinkin about that big dick fyi  
**Mark:** dude i came buckets 

The second message he signed off with a bunch of OK emojis and one, presumably accidental, matcha emoji.

After waking up at like noon the next day and realizing what he did, Mark almost started sweating out of sheer humiliation. Luckily, Johnny seems to either not care that Mark is a walking monument to cringe, or maybe blowing a dude who kept his shirt on the whole time already set his standards pretty low, because he actually answers instead of leaving Mark on read. 

**Johnny:** Are you sure you're busy Sunday? 

He added a winky face, too. It's the only thing stopping Mark from apologizing profusely and blaming those texts on his weak weed constitution; Johnny thinks he sent that in his right mind and is into it, or is nice enough to pretend he is, and Mark isn't about to moonwalk that back. Instead, he takes a shower and rinses off the lingering embarrassment while considering what to say to steer the conversation elsewhere. 

He can sext when the occasion calls for it, but you can't just spring that on people. Mark's a bad texter, but he knows, like, etiquette. Plus, he doesn't want Johnny to assume the only reason Mark's talking to him is because of his superior dick-sucking skills. 

**Mark:** lol yea unfortunately  
**Mark:** but this week we should for sure hang out  
**Mark:** you wanna hit the gym or get burgers or somethin?  
**Johnny:** …...the GYM? 

He finished that with a laugh-crying emoji. Mark feels a little condescended to, but as always with Johnny, he's kind of into it. 

**Mark:** excuse! like its a bad idea lmao  
**Mark:** i know you work out! I work out! we could gym it up  
**Johnny:** Wednesday night work for dinner? We can save the gym for when we run out of date ideas.

Mark shouts "Oh, score" at his phone and is bummed all over again that Lucas isn't there to hear him and ask questions. He wants to tell him that Johnny is taking Mark on dates and not just relegating him to booty calls—after Mark spent the last few days incredibly unclear on what they were doing. Not that Mark minds a booty call, but Johnny is great and Mark wants to be his friend, too, especially since he has a feeling that Johnny will be too busy once school starts again to bother with any of this.

He sends an enthusiastic series of emojis back to Johnny before he texts Lucas a somewhat redacted version of the conversation since he can't exactly screencap his horrible behavior. 

Lucas ends up calling him over WhatsApp to yell about airplane food, the weather, his mom, his mom's cooking, and Mark's miraculous dating life, despite jet lag and time differences, because Lucas is the only man with rights. 

\---

They meet on the other side of Washington Park for tapas at this cute, trendy little place Mark is dressed down for in his striped shirt and ripped jeans. It's got low lighting, date lighting, and is teeming with twentysomethings grabbing cocktails after work. Johnny shows up after Mark but not late, perfectly on time, and he's wearing sunglasses in the waning sunlight that he trades out for regular glasses once he's inside.

"You look," Mark says, stopping when an appropriate descriptor of Johnny's whole situation fails to come to him. He's got on boat shoes and pastel shorts, and his arms are trying to bust out of his shirt. "Summer looks good on you," he says, but then everything looks good on Johnny, even bulky winter layers.

Johnny smiles and steps closer to him when another party comes in to put their name in; they've got a reservation but the restaurant is running behind, and he texted Johnny as much once he arrived. This close, Mark can smell his shampoo and traces of fresh sweat that should not be appealing but are. He smells beachy. Crisp. Mark definitely just smells like his deodorant. 

"You look cute as hell, as usual."

Johnny complimented him when they got coffee, too, but way more off-the-cuff and casual, amidst a story he was telling. Now, Mark's staring down the barrel of it and can't write it off. Johnny thinks he's cute as hell. Usually. "Uh, thanks. Hey, did you guys end up finding another roommate?"

Johnny leans against the wall, slipping his hands into his pockets and crossing one ankle over the other. "Mmm, nope. Only one person actually showed, and they did not pass the vibe check."

"You try the queer housing groups?" Mark asks, keeping a nervous eye on the host at the front of the house because he's a lot easier than looking at Johnny. 

There are two Johnnys in his mind: the guy who patiently corrected Mark's code, and the guy who gave him a glorious, sadistic handjob in his acid trip of a room. Mark's having trouble reconciling them, even if he has a nasty crush on both versions. Also, this is the first time they've seen each other since Mark's edible adventure. He's allowed to be a little on edge. 

At least he didn't try to send any nudes. He's grateful that even high Mark is wound too tight for that.

"Yeah, Ten made a post." Mark doesn't _know_ Ten, but he knows Ten. To a certain demographic of students, not to mention any local dance enthusiasts, he's basically a legend. "Nothing biting yet."

"Mark, party of two? Your table is ready," the host calls out, and the two of them make their way through the packed dining room to a table.

Their feet knock when they're sitting down, and Mark almost elbows over the water he's poured, but eventually, they're settled. Mark is for real looking across a table, with a tiny flickering candle on it, into Johnny Suh's dark eyes. He bites down on a grin.

"So, hey."

"Hey," Johnny says, picking up the drink specials menu and absolutely not looking at it. "Thanks for coming."

"Uh, no, thank you for letting me chew your ear off about my shitty professors and ask for seconds." Mark shakes his head, grinning, and deliberately nudges Johnny's foot, though he regrets it when he remembers Johnny's swag-ass shoes. He hopes he hasn't scuffed them. 

"Yeah, well, you let me cry on your shoulder over Sehun, so." 

In no way could anyone describe the four sentences Johnny said about Sehun's imminent departure at their coffee date as crying. _Mark_ was the one who got emotional, though nowhere near tears since he’s basically allergic to crying, given that Lucas left the morning before. But Johnny just put a gentle hand on Mark's wrist and smoothed the knobbly bone there until Mark gulped down the rest of his tea—he likes coffee, but it makes him gassy, so he opted for the less dangerous beverage—and went back to showing Johnny pictures of the time Lucas got drunk and ended up swimming in a public fountain.

Mark's been on dates before (he's not _feral_ ) but most of them were back in Canada, in high school, and the rules for those were much more clearly defined: go to the movies or one of the restaurants by the mall, probably no kissing or candoolding but maybe some hand holding, and get the check with the $50 his dad sent him out with. But all of those dates were with girls he wanted to be friends with because he thought they were cool, not girls he wanted to kiss. His handful of dates since moving to Chicago twoish years ago have veered wildly off that pathetic but at least predictable script. For starters, he actually wants to kiss his dates because they're men (except for the gross or rude ones; thanks, Tinder) and sometimes he gets a handjob after. 

He's never gone out with anyone he already hooked up with before. Mark's really expanding his horizons with Johnny. It's novel.

Johnny asks about Lucas, Mark asks about Sehun and Johnny's photography gigs, and neither of them make much headway looking at the menus and picking out stuff to eat. It's nice. 

But then their server shows up, and things… take a weird turn.

"Johnny Suh?" she all but gasps upon arriving at the table, visibly delighted. "Oh my gosh, hi! I took your CS class a while ago."

"Technically, that was Professor Addison's CS class," Johnny says, but he's smiling wide and seems to remember her from the content of their conversation. Which takes place without Mark being able to get a word in.

The server, named Alicia, seems sweet, chatty and quippy, and Mark understands the tunnel vision one might develop when confronted with your hot former TA in a short-sleeve button-down and glasses because Mark is experiencing it right now, too, but the only allusion to Mark, a scant few inches from her, is when she says "I'll give you guys a few more minutes." Through their chitchat, Mark drank half of his water and watched the friendly smile dim on Johnny's face to something far less genuine.

"Sorry about that," Johnny says, looking outright perturbed, but it's not like it's his fault he's so charming and hot, so Mark just pats his arm.

"I get the feeling that happens a lot."

"Running into students? Yeah. This? Not so much."

Mark is fuzzy on what _this_ is. Running into students when he's on a date? Or Johnny eclipsing Mark's existence to the point of inspiring rudeness? But whatever. Not a lot is going to break Mark's stride, not when he knows what Johnny's mouth feels like. "You wanna just get a bunch of stuff and share it?"

"That seems to be the procedure in general here," Johnny says. "Any food allergies?"

"My body doesn't love dairy, but I'm good otherwise."

"Noted." 

Mark watches him instead of reading over his own menu, but that's fine. It's more fun. Johnny purses his lips and spends a lot of time skimming a finger over the wine list. Of course he likes wine. 

Alicia arrives again under the guise of taking their orders, but in reality, it sets off the next round of Mark failing to exist but for the increasingly worried glances Johnny sends him.

The real problem is, Mark has trouble sending back food if the order is wrong, and he always tips 20% or higher despite how many times he's gotten low-balance notices from his bank, and he rates his rare Uber rides a full five out of five stars even if something extremely weird happens, which unfortunately for Mark is a lot of the time. He's physically, emotionally, spiritually incapable of so much as clearing his throat. He thinks he might be able to muster a sheepish wave if she looks at him, but that hasn't happened yet.

"Listen," Johnny says, his tone in a low, patient register that reminds Mark of the hours they spent in his glorified closet of an office. "I'm happy to catch up, feel free to send me an email, but I'm on a date right now and I don't want to keep reminding him how boring my job is, you know?" 

"Oh my gosh!" Alicia turns to Mark and actually looks at him, eyes saucer-wide under her immaculate bangs, bringing her notepad up to her chest. "I'm so sorry!"

Johnny's smile is blinding and fake as fuck. Mark wants to crawl under the table in second-hand embarrassment for Alicia, who looks like she is Realizing Some Things.

"It's cool," Mark says through a dry throat. "Uh, could I get a Coke?"

"Oh, absolutely, for sure, oh, jeeze, I'll be right back with it. And to take your order for real. I'm—sorry."

Then she takes off, shoulders up to her ears, still clutching her notepad like a lifeline. _Feels bad, man!_ Mark thinks, gulping down the rest of water like it might be able to numb him. 

"Sorry," Johnny says again, needlessly, and Mark waves him off.

"I don't think she was trying to be rude. You're just… a lot." 

Johnny's brow goes up, a stark line that contrasts the angle of his glasses. "A lot? Of what?"

Mark just flaps a hand at him. He knows Johnny is aware of his stupid hot powers, he's witnessed it firsthand and been fucking annihilated by it, but he's also aware that Johnny's carefully cultivated his little smirks and chuckles and probably even the way he does his hair, falling in subtle waves over his forehead but looking soft enough to touch, and nobody does all that without a reason. People call Mark easygoing because he leans in to his natural proclivity for giggling. Mark would describe himself as a shivering Chihuahua yelping at any stimulation. It's all about the perspective. "A lot of Johnny Suh, dude. You're a tall drink of water, and anyone who's had you as a TA knows you're on another level. The girl who sat next to me literally doodled your name in hearts during lectures." 

Johnny squints for a moment, but the corners of his mouth are curling upward. "Yeah, I could tell she didn't take good notes." He gives an over-the-top head toss. "Feel free to keep listing my virtues."

Alicia saves Mark from having to come up with something (or, worse, never shutting up) by bringing Mark's soda and also a plate of liberally seasoned potatoes and a few types of dip. "Here you go. On the house, for monopolizing your date." She seems to have gotten herself together and snapped back into customer-service mode, which Marks finds admirable. He's still fighting twinges of embarrassment and knows if he were in her shoes, they'd find him in one of the walk-in freezers, trying to turn into a Mark-shaped block of ice. "Are you all set to order?"

They manage to communicate their choices without Mark feeling the need to crawl under the table—at least until, when she's collecting their menus, she says, "You guys are a really cute couple."

"Uh," Mark says.

"Thank you," Johnny says, somehow sounding demure.

"Holy shit that was weird," Mark says in a rush of breath when she finally leaves, and then immediately feels guilty. She's still getting that 20% tip for sure. "I mean. Haha. Have you had potatoes like this before?" He reaches over to the basket of them and promptly burns his fingertips on steaming-hot starch. 

"So what _were_ you so busy with on Sunday?" Johnny asks before sipping his water pointedly, eyes gleaming above the rim.

Oh, great, so they're not going to pretend Mark didn't sext him. Mark considers shoving a handful of potatoes into his mouth just to head this off. "Busking," he says. "Most Saturdays, every Sunday, sometimes during the week if I'm not too busy. Gives me some extra cash and a chance to practice."

"Busking? With your guitar?" Johnny seems genuinely interested, leaning in, all the teasing from a few moments ago gone.

"Yeah."

"That's neat. Where do you set up?"

"Depends. Sometimes the L on 59th, Millennium Park if the weather is good, but sometimes I just go pick a street corner."

"That's… brave. Considering the heat and how you, uh." Johnny frowns, briefly, and glances down to collect his thoughts. "It's just not something anyone can do."

He can guess what Johnny cut himself off from saying; he did, after all, watch Mark babble and stutter through a class presentation and knock his own laptop off the podium in a fit of nervous energy. But speaking in front of tons of people is a lot different from playing for strangers who are free to ignore him. Plus, Mark would be a shit musician this far into his craft if he couldn't play Coldplay and Bill Withers in front of tourists. "Because I'm so suave and confident, you mean?" he says, grinning. "When I play, it's not me; I'm only a vehicle for the music."

"That's deep, Mark. I'm feeling inspired."

"You're such a dick," Mark says, delighted, and Johnny is laughing, hair falling into his eyes and glowing under the mood lighting, when Alicia brings them their first round of food.

\---

It turns out that Johnny's got a car, and when Mark said something about busing back to campus, Johnny offered to give him a ride. Given the tension between them during the trip, when they're alone together, Mark's fingers twitching on his lap until he plays with the hem of his shirt to distract himself, he seriously wonders if he's gonna get fucked back at his dorm room. It would be nice—he's even more into Johnny than he was before and still has yet to see his dick, which is a crime—but he also needs serious prep for anything fancier than hands and mouths, and he has plans in the morning, so he's wondering what Johnny might want. 

"I had a nice time tonight," Johnny says when they're sitting at a red light. He's driving with one hand on the steering wheel, and his car is older but there's a modern and decent sound system in it, gently pulsing the bass from Chase Atlantic songs playing low.

"Yeah, same. The food was great." He chances a look at Johnny, kind of under his eyelashes in case Johnny is watching, and he is. "The company was all right, too," he says, flirting as hard as he can.

"Mark Lee," Johnny says, turning his attention back to the road since traffic is moving again. "What happened to the guy who took a class he hated just to be around me, huh?"

"Hmm, don't know him. Sounds suss. Are you sure it wasn't a line?"

Johnny laughs again, and when he reaches out to pat Mark's thigh and knee, his hand lingers there for a few moments and lights Mark up. He ends up biting his lip and staring out the window so he doesn't say something and reveal more of his big fucking crush. He does manage to convey directions to his dorm when Johnny asks, and the closer they get, the more the buzzing in Mark's veins intensifies—and his nerves, because it's not like he's had penetrative sex much and he's not sure if he wants it tonight, but he doesn't want to blurt that out now, and he doesn't know how to ask what Johnny wants. If he wants.

Johnny finds a parking spot and shuts the engine off, leaving them in silence.

"Hey," he says gently. "Is it okay if I kiss you goodnight?"

Mark whips his head around so fast it almost hurts. Johnny is giving him bedroom eyes for sure, but he looks unsure of his welcome, too. 

"You don't wanna come up?" Mark asks, then curses himself for how loud and demanding he sounded. 

"I wanna come up," Johnny says, "but I also have to be home all day tomorrow to show Sehun's bedroom to a few more people, so I shouldn't." He takes an inventory of Mark next to him, chest to lips to eyes, and Mark simmers in place some more like a shaken-up Coke in a capped bottle. "Raincheck?"

"No—I mean, yeah." All his hangups and questions about sex evaporate and leave him way less tense, although there is now a tiny portion of him assuming Johnny's decided over the course of their dinner that Mark's not worth a repeat, but he tells that part to shut up. "We can make out for a few minutes, yeah?"

Even if, with the car off and the A/C not running, the heat in the car is quickly creeping up and Mark's prickling with sweat. 

Johnny grins with teeth. "Oh, definitely."

Mark hears the click of a seatbelt and hurries to undo his own, surging forward over the center console to press his mouth to Johnny's. It's wet and easy and makes Mark moan for the relief of it, after a night of uncertainty and weirdness and flirting. And the faint veins in Johnny's forearms, the shape of him under the fabric. Mark winds both hands in Johnny's hair, messing it up and not caring that it's impolite, and tugs Johnny until he feels like they're as close as they can be given the givens and Johnny's tongue is deep in Mark's mouth.

When Mark scrapes his teeth and Johnny moans, sweat starts slipping down his back and his dick starts to perk up. Mark pulls away to his side of the car, gasping in air. "Okay, shit, we're not getting arrested for fucking in the parking lot."

"Unfortunately." Johnny braces himself on the steering wheel, head dropping forward to rest on it. The back of his neck is damp, which Mark is horny for and wants to lick, somehow. Not looking, he turns the key in the ignition until the engine is on the A/C is on again. The sound of anything that isn't Johnny's breathing feels like a shock to Mark's system. He sits upright and gives Mark a pained smile. "So a raincheck on all of this. And a nice, refreshing cold shower for me later."

"Yeah," Mark says, sounding like a frog. "I'm gonna get out of this car while I still can." He toys with the door handle until he, reluctantly, opens it. "Thank you for the food experience and also… yeah." He climbs out of the car and then bends down to wave goodbye at Johnny through the open door. "Stay awesome, Johnny Suh."

Johnny's lips are red and swollen and his hair is a fucking mess. He looks as wrecked as Mark feels from maybe a minute of kissing. If Johnny ever manages to get his dick in Mark, it will be the official end of him. 

"Stay awesome, Mark Lee," Johnny says, only laughing at him a little.

Mark closes Johnny's door, then remembers the thought he had while walking from the restaurant to Johnny's car earlier and yanks it back open. 

"Wanna get arrested that bad, huh?" Johnny says.

"No! Like, I thought of something. Do you know Jaehyun Jung?"

Johnny squints as if running through a mental rolodex. "Doesn't ring a bell, no."

"He's a friend of a friend, but he's totally cool, like, maybe the nicest guy I've met in my life, _and_ he's looking for a place."

Johnny tilts his head, looking interested. "If you say he's cool, I believe you. I'm also burned from being asked if I'd feel cool living with six free-roaming ferrets and feeling a little desperate." He shifts in his seat, and Mark's attention immediately goes to the flex of long leg he can see. "Thing is, the rent's steeper than a lot of students can swing."

Mark laughs, high and loud, and shakes his head. "I don't think Jaehyun needs to worry about that, dude. He's been living in Airbnbs and hotels since his last housing fell through. Pretty sure his family is rich-rich."

Johnny looks even more interested. "You sure he wants to slum it in an old three-bedroom house, then?"

"Yeah, dude, pretty sure. I can text him tonight?"

"Please do."

"Uh, one thing, though," Mark says. "Not sure if it's a dealbreaker, but I'm ninety percent sure Jaehyun is straight. I swear he's a boy scout, you'd like him."

"I appreciate the warning," Johnny says, clearly amused by Mark's rush to defend Jaehyun's honor. "Let me know what he says."

"I will," Mark says, already congratulating himself on his brilliance. If Jaehyun is as cool as he thinks, based on their interactions and the time Jaehyun joined a protest against a shitty transphobic school policy _and_ brought everyone water and snacks, Johnny is going to be on cloud nine—because of Mark. "Night, Johnny."

"Night, Mark."

\---

Two days later, after sending along Jaehyun's enthusiastic interest and contact details, Mark finds himself lying in bed at noon, fist pumping.

 **Johnny:** I'm keeping Jaehyun. Forever.  
**Mark:** lmao  
**Johnny:** I'm serious, Mark. You're a genius.  
**Mark:** soooo he's signing the lease huh  
**Johnny:** Once the background check our overlord of a landlord requires clears, yeah he's moving in.  
**Mark:** sweet!!!!!!! no ferrets just Jaehyun’s mad cute dimples  
**Johnny:** No ferrets. I can't thank you enough.  
**Johnny:** Also, can confirm: Jaehyun is straight as a board.

Mark snorts and wonders how that came up.

 **Mark:** yeah lmao i figured  
**Mark:** if god sent him out gay we wouldnt survive haha, he needed to hold somethin back  
**Johnny:** Right

Johnny's silent for a few minutes, and Mark considers asking how Ten liked Jaehyun, but he clearly did, or this whole conversation wouldn't be unfolding.

 **Johnny:** You'll have to tell me how I can repay this enormous favor you've done.  
**Mark:** enormous huh? haha  
**Mark:** jk i got u, its no big thing and im so happy its working out  
**Johnny:** Not gonna take advantage of my gratitude?  
**Mark:** i mean im never gonna say no to food?  
**Johnny:** Next time we go out, I'll make sure I don't have shit to do the next morning. 

He gets a whole-body chill at that. Mark squirms under his covers and tries to formulate a response, something flirty but not aggro.

 **Mark:** imma hold u to that  
**Johnny:** I really did want to come up to your room, in case that wasn't clear.

Oh, it's clear as glass. Mark's biting his lip and regretting that he jerked off when he woke up. He takes a second to consider how much is too much, given how gunshy he is of crossing a boundary, and also how generally self-conscious he is, but figures Johnny's making it obvious what's on the table. It's not like they didn't already hook up.

 **Mark:** its fine  
**Mark:** im just haunted by the fact that u made me cum twice and im down by 1

His heart thuds hard in his chest after he sends it, but Johnny's quick to respond.

 **Johnny:** I got myself off thinking about your mouth last night, so technically we're even.  
**Johnny:** I'm sorry my schedule's still a hot mess. Once Sehun's gone and Jaehyun's moved in, I can take you out to dinner again and thank you for real.

Mark rolls over and buries his face in his pillow. Johnny Suh is too smooth. He's a slippery floor, and Mark's just trying to keep his dignity intact as he slides all over in his socks. 

This is perilously close to sexting. He's so thankful he swore off the edibles so he's (theoretically? maybe?) capable of handling this. Mark feels a little out of his body as he flops onto his back and types, hands shaking.

 **Mark:** no worries, i just wanted to test how many times i can make u cum in one sesh  
**Johnny:** At least two, three if you put your mind to it.

He has the audacity to tack a smiling emoji onto to the end of it. 

**Mark:** what???? ok u just fuckin with me  
**Mark:** ive only seen someone w a dick shoot like that bc of prostate play  
**Johnny:** Oh, if it's the prostate then I have to recalculate.  
**Mark:** this is destroying my life  
**Mark:** i cant BELIEVe i wont be able to see u or ur dick to test this theory until like  
**Mark:** next week?

There's a longer pause, during which Mark ends up pulling up the neck of his shirt and chewing on it. 

**Johnny:** I'm free until 3 today?

Mark sits up in bed, sodden fabric falling from his mouth as he tries to deal. 

**Mark:** yo  
**Mark:** does this mean i can make u cum as many times as i want until 3?  
**Johnny:** :)  
**Mark:** do u remember where my dorm is lmao

He sends Johnny his room number and general instructions for navigating from the parking lot, then throws his phone onto his covers and starts frantically tidying. He's not nasty, and Lucas just moved out so half the room is empty and pristine, but there's dirty clothes and empty soda bottles in weird places. 

He keeps up a steady mantra of "oh my God, oh my God" as he hurls things around and tries to decide if he has time for a shower.

\---

By the time Johnny gets there, Mark's taken the world's fastest shower, changed out of his ratty sleep clothes, and made his bed. He opens the door to Johnny leaning against the hallway wall in a leather jacket, in _June_ , his legs going on forever in tight black jeans, with soft, unstyled hair.

He smiles at Mark, closed-mouth, reveling in his own devastation. Mark's knees are actually weak; he clings to the doorframe.

"God, come in," he urges.

Johnny does, checking Mark's shoulder as he does. "Hey," he says, and takes off his Vans like a good boy raised right in the entryway, nudging them into the corner with Mark's sneakers and slippers. 

"Hey." Mark's now leaning back against the closed door and taking in how Johnny Suh looks in Mark's tiny room, in front of Mark's twin bed, in front of Mark's posters, in socks and his very unseasonable but sexy fit. "Aren't you, like, hot?" He gestures at Johnny's jacket.

Johnny blinks, and then there's a careful flicker of his tongue as he regards Mark. "I mean, yeah," he says slowly. 

Mark reaches for the temperature dial on the wall near him and cranks the A/C up. "Don't give yourself heat stroke," he admonishes. "You look good in anything." 

Johnny seems unsure of what to do with that, gaze still heavy on Mark in his reasonable shorts and shirt with the sleeves cut off. "I'll take that into account," he says, and slips the jacket off to reveal he's got on a tight t-shirt with his own sleeves rolled up to his shoulders. Mark wants to bite the curve of his bicep.

He's already wound up, has been since their texts, and it persisted even through his frantic cleanup. "Can I kiss you, or is this straight to my science experiment?"

Johnny finally laughs, breaking the tension he cultivated, and steps forward to scoop Mark into his arms. He kisses his forehead first, and Mark grips his waist too hard to stop himself from wobbling over how cute that is. Then he gives Mark's mouth a quick press of a kiss for hello. "Gimme a minute before I just whip it out," he says, in a near-whisper, and Mark can't help himself; he leans up and begs with what he's sure is a dumb expression to be kissed again.

When they're done kissing for real, Mark's half-hard in his shorts and intimately aware of how it feels to slide his hands over Johnny's abs, the yield of his skin over firm muscle. Johnny puts one of his giant hands on Mark's waist, then makes a considering noise and slides it lower to cup his ass and grind Mark against his body.

"Fuck," Johnny says, and Mark kisses the line of his neck, tangy with sweat, lips bumping over the slight protrusion of his Adam's apple. 

"Lemme take it out." Mark's already toying with the button to Johnny's jeans, hands greedy for what it feels like he's waited ages for. 

Johnny's grip on his ass tightens, fingers splaying, and then just fully starts kneading. "How—do you wanna do it?" 

Mark did actually give half a thought to that while he was putting his room in order; there's a shortage of places to sit that aren't Mark's desk chair, especially since he and Lucas dumped the giant beanbag on account of it leaking stuffing constantly. "I'll sit on the bed, I guess?"

Johnny huffs into his hair. "No, I meant, what do you want to do?"

"Oh, uh, I guess I was—I want to blow you, like, pretty bad?" 

Johnny groans and kisses Mark before he can get the rest of his thought out, which is that Johnny should not set his expectations too high, as Mark's felated more popsicles than actual dicks by a huge margin and he can't deepthroat either. Still, the two of them start working on Johnny's fly in earnest, until finally— _finally_ —Mark shoves his hand down Johnny's briefs and wraps his hand around his cock. He's most of the way hard, or Mark really hopes he is or he's not gonna be able to get his mouth around it, and every time, it's a freaky sensation to do this to other people, something that makes him feel outside of his body but also crackling with unspent energy. 

He thickens up the rest of the way under Mark's curious hand, and Mark milks some precome out of him surprisingly fast with persistent sweeps of his thumb over the head. Johnny hisses when Mark wriggles his hand lower, fighting against the fact that Johnny's jeans are still on, just unzipped, and teases his balls.

"Okay, let's… go get on the bed." Johnny tries to shuffle them both in that direction even as Mark keeps marveling at the way Johnny's dick feels. 

He squeezes a temporary farewell and sits on the edge of the mattress, staring up at Johnny's looming form. His dick is just—out, jutting between the halves of his fly, cut and pretty, and Johnny sees him looking and drags his own palm over it in a way that's going to ruin Mark's ability to look at Johnny's hands and not think about this. 

When Johnny walks closer, Mark's reminded that, while Johnny isn't porn-dick huge, he's still proportionate and Mark's an amateur at best. He reaches out, tugs Johnny's dick, and trails his gaze up Johnny's hips to his chest and finally to his face, his chin ducked and his eyes narrowed. Johnny's hand goes to Mark's shoulder, then cups his neck.

"I'm warning you now, I'll choke pretty easy," Mark says, and watches with fascination as Johnny's eyelids flutter.

"Where can I come?" he asks, even as Mark is leaning further forward as if dicknotized. 

"You can shoot on my face—" and whoa, Mark felt Johnny jerk in his hand as he said that, wild "—but I'll try to aim you below my eyes if you warn me."

Johnny pets Mark's hair. His dick is swaying like an inch from Mark's mouth, and it's a truly surreal experience to be having a conversation like this. "I'll warn you. Just… do whatever you like."

Mark plans to. He's never had free rein like this, not really, never had the opportunity to wring someone dry, let alone in the middle of the day with the lights on, painfully aware that Johnny can see everything Mark does. His hand is at Johnny's base to hold him still, and the head slips between his lips easy, though he can already tell his whole face is going to ache. Mark sucks on that for a while, relearning how to keep his teeth out of the way, sliding his mouth over the head, forward and back. Johnny coats his tongue with more salt, and it startles Mark into a noise, the intensified taste of him. Johnny moans back.

He starts drooling pretty much immediately, and the sounds he's making are enough to flush him. Johnny's gaze feels heavy on him even if he hasn't seen it; he's too shy to look up from the pattern of Johnny's shirt. He's also too shy to shove down Johnny's jeans and underwear, too, though there's something deeply sexy about them not even getting undressed. 

"I'm close," Johnny says, and Mark pulls off he's so gobsmacked. He's put the tip in and kinda fucked his mouth over it a bit; this isn't stellar cocksucking by any means. Johnny laughs, though it's lower, quieter, than his usual. "I drove over here hard, dude. And I'm always quick for the first one." Now that Mark isn't on his dick, he's touching Mark's face, trailing fingers over his cheek and jaw.

"You want it like you did me, before? I just don't stop?" Mark asks, intensifying the slow, half-distracted twist of his hand around Johnny's dick. 

"Mmmm," Johnny sighs, shifting his weight slightly. "Yeah." 

Mark figures if he's getting these supposed multiple orgasms out of Johnny, he can afford to take it easy on himself for the first one; it's just, like, a warmup. He speeds his hand up until he's got a good rhythm and an up-twist-down combo going fluidly, and he even manages to bring his left hand in to rub Johnny's balls. Fully multitasking. He's so focused on his goal, knocking Johnny's first orgasm out, that when it's clearly imminent—Johnny's gripping his shoulder for leverage, his fingers tightening, his smothered groans intensifying, and he's dripping enough precome to make the slide easy, his balls tight and high—he isn't ready.

"Gonna," Johnny groans, body bowing forward.

"Oh, shit, my glasses," Mark yelps, and rips them off right as Johnny starts to come, shooting hot and startling onto Mark's (closed) mouth. There's a lot, and it drips down to his chin and chest, each jet of it splashing onto his skin making some instinctive part of him clench his eyes shut.

Johnny groans through the rest, though at the end it sounds like he's laughing, and _pats_ Mark's head. "Good job," he says, clearly teasing, but fuck if it doesn't do it for Mark. 

He pops Johnny back in, not minding the taste of come so long as it's not filling his mouth and he's expected to swallow, eugh. This time, he takes him deeper, until there's a tickling pressure at the back of his throat and he has to remind himself to breathe.

"Oh, fuck, that's—" His hips are twitching toward and away from Mark's mouth like his body doesn't know what it wants. The first one seems to have unlocked something in both of them; Mark could not care a single iota less about the weird noises he's making by trying to inexpertly suck Johnny's dick, and Johnny is making more noise, breathing deeper, murmuring his approval. "Mark, shit."

He takes Johnny too deep finally, body wracking, wetness spreading over his chin, and he pulls off to cough. Johnny's dick looks much redder, like it's tender, and it never flagged after he came. 

"Careful, baby." Johnny slips a finger under Mark's lower lip and rubs. "Just the tip, if you want."

It's not so much what Mark wants so much as what he's resigned to. "I'll only get better with practice," he mutters, and sucks his cock back into his mouth, rubbing the slit with his tongue. He's careful not to let him go too deep again, though he takes more than the tip out of stubbornness. 

Mark tries to work Johnny's dick as rigorously as Johnny did his during their hookup, but it's a lot harder when his mouth is in the way, and he's going to give himself a wrist ache for sure. There's something zen about it, though, the coordination of his slurping mouth and the relentless twisting of his hand, and Mark loses a few minutes to it.

"Close again," Johnny says, sounding very unlike himself, and Mark lets himself look up. Of course Johnny is staring straight down at him, mouth parted. "Ah, now," and he starts to pull his hips away.

Mark stops him from going too far, keeping his lips parted and letting Johnny's come splash across his open mouth, on his extended tongue, over his cheeks, slipping fast to join whatever mess is on his shirt. He doesn't really swallow this time either, just lets Johnny mess him up, and subtly spits out what's in his mouth once Johnny is done, not even saying anything as he hollows his cheeks and starts sucking like nothing even happened.

"Fuck, fuck, Mark," Johnny growls, and Mark feels him twitch. It must be borderline painful now. Mark clutches Johnny's hip and holds him in place, blunt nails digging into denim. It's sort of payback for what he put Mark through, but also the feeling of control Mark's flying on is incredible. "Don't stop," he says, like that's even an option right now. "Fuck, keep me hard for you. God."

He chokes again and is impatient with himself while he coughs it out. Mark's single-minded, like the nights he plays the same chords over and over again until his fingers do what he wants them to, until he's learned a song to his bones, and his body isn't cooperating now. The idea of being able to keep all of Johnny warm in his mouth, in his throat, to have him come there, is so heady, but Mark's body is punking out if Johnny so much as hits his throat. 

If Johnny lets him, Mark wants to spend the summer learning how to do it for real, using Johnny's dick to train himself out of a gag reflex. 

Mark's hand and arm are tired, his jaw is getting these weird pricks of agony, and he's a nasty mess, Johnny's come and his spit drying on skin even as he knows he's gonna refresh it. Johnny is full-on panting now, hands wound in Mark's hair but not moving his head, always a gentleman. When Mark slides off to give his jaw a break and polishes the tip of his dick the way Johnny did him, Johnny shouts and struggles not to lurch backward, Mark's hand holding him in place. For good measure, Mark stretches his legs out and does his best to box Johnny between them.

When Mark just keeps polishing the head, Johnny's body shudders and he hears him hiss, and this is good too, so good, the way Mark is ripping apart the remains of Johnny's impeccable chill. He's moaning on every exhale.

"Don't stop, don't stop," Johnny says, strangled, his whole body going tense like he's about to come, but nothing happens, just the perpetual motion of Mark's hand and the twitching Johnny's trying to hold back. "Shit."

"You need somethin' else?" Mark asks, and moves his hand for a second to kiss the wet, abused head of Johnny's dick because he honestly feels sorry for it, but then he goes right back to what he was doing because he's not _that_ sorry. "What do you need? Lube?"

"I—fuck, can you finger me?"

"Shit, yeah, just a sec." There's no way he can reach his stash from this position, so he lets go and clambers over the mattress on his hands and knees to get to his nightstand. There's lube there, along with some individual condoms he got at the health center, and Mark's lone sex toy. He's uncapped it and wetted two of his fingers before he's even resettled in front of Johnny, and he realizes his mistake when he looks at that long, lithe body and how it's still basically clothed. "You're gonna have to take off your jeans for me, sorry," he says, too turned on to really care that he lubed up preemptively.

Johnny does, pushing his black jeans and underwear down over his smooth, muscular thighs and kicking them off. One of the jean cuffs wants to stay on, so it takes another few moments until he's bare, and he takes his socks off, too. He's just… he's all leg. 90% leg. Somehow, he's also 90% torso and arms, too? Johnny's hot-ass body is in violation of natural laws.

"Shirt, too," Mark instructs, because they aren't doing this _twice_ with someone wearing a shirt, no fucking way. 

Johnny cooperates, and now he's totally naked in Mark's room, the afternoon sun shining golden onto his body because Mark forgot to close the blinds, oops, thank God the angle is tricky to see in anyway. 

"You're so hot," Mark sighs, checking to make sure the lube is warmed up enough. "You want just one?"

"Sure, to start, just—" Mark grips Johnny's thigh and spreads him wider, and Johnny groans, low and relieved, at the first ginger press of his wet finger. 

He's warm, a little damp from failing to sartorially respect summer, and his ass feels fantastic, so full and taut. Mark finds himself playing, rubbing circles around Johnny's hole. 

"Mark, please," Johnny says quietly, and Mark's eyes shut against a wave of feeling and arousal he was in no way prepared for. Johnny's begging for it, for one measly finger, for Mark to make him come a third time. 

"I got you." Gently, but in one uninterrupted glide, Mark's finger is swallowed by Johnny's burning-hot body. The squeeze is… There aren't words. Dumbly, Mark looks up from Johnny's red dick, still swollen stiff, from the cut of his hips, to his flushed chest and finally his face. "Good?"

Johnny nods, adjusting his stance. He looks like he's trying to control his breathing. Mark rotates his finger in a cautious swivel, spreading slick but also pushing against what feels like impossible resistance. Johnny's so tight, it's like his body is trying to work Mark's finger deeper, somehow. Like it won't want to give it up.

"Jerk yourself off," Mark says, aware he's hit his limitations: he can't look at Johnny's face, see the wash of pleasure across it, finger his tight fucking asshole, keep a steadying hand on his hip, _and_ keep up a handjob at the same time. 

Johnny obeys wordlessly, though Mark notes he doesn't seem to be going as hard as Mark did earlier. Mark is careful, but he starts working his finger in and then almost out, and rubbing the pad of his fingertip in an area he thinks is relatively close to Johnny's prostate if not actually it. Johnny squirms when he does it, so he just does that, deeper and a little harder, lingering when he's inside and rushing to get back in when he's not.

Given that Mark only has experience finding his own prostate, really, it's not shocking he hasn't quite nailed another body's sweet spot on his first try. "Go—towards the front, it's closer than you think," Johnny says. Mark adjusts the angle and slows down, biting his lip in concentration, until he feels the difference. He rubs hard at it and is rewarded by Johnny's long, broken moan. "Oh, just rub back and forth—oh, yes."

He does exactly as Johnny says, not straying from that spot, rubbing slowly side to side and then with direct pulses, until Johnny's whining, shaking, and it's a good thing Mark's already helping hold him still.

"Gonna come?" Mark asks, when Johnny's noises climb higher. 

"Yeah," Johnny croaks. Mark pushes against the gland two more times, steady and not too hard, until Johnny goes rigid again and gasps. "Mark. _Mark_ ," he says, and he sounds like he's coming his brains out, like it hurts. Mark gets a headrush just hearing it.

He ends up bent over Mark, hands on Mark's shoulders, panting into his hair. Mark carefully removes his finger and wipes his hand on his already filthy shirt, then reaches up to hug Johnny's awkwardly positioned body as hard as he can from this angle. He pats Johnny's sweaty back like he's petting a large cat or something.

"Hey, come on," he says, as Johnny still hasn't stopped shaking. Mark tries to steer them both onto a too-small dorm bed, and it's a clash of elbows and knees and Johnny refusing to acknowledge that he's boneless and not helpful. Finally, Mark is squished pleasantly by Johnny's overgrown form, and Johnny is thankfully breathing hard on the side of Mark's chest where there's way less come. 

"I'll—just gimme a second," Johnny says, though he's already making movements to get at Mark's shorts. 

Mark stops his hand and squeezes it affectionately. "No rush."

Johnny seems to accept that, and he regains some steadiness as Mark plays with his hair and rubs his shoulder, follows the knobs of his spine down to the small of his back. "I'll never catch up," he says eventually, nuzzling into Mark's neck. "I'm down three."

Mark laughs, and it jostles Johnny on top of him, which just makes him laugh harder. Johnny slings a thigh over him, but he pushes himself back so all of his torso weight isn't slowly crushing Mark's chest, and the smile he gives, eyes squinched nearly shut, hair a mess, teeth peeking behind his lips, is so languid and happy and sensual that Mark feels a pull low in his gut. It's reminding him that he's been hard more or less the whole time since they started kissing. Still, there's no big urgency to come; doing that to Johnny, working him through the crests of three orgasms, he feels like the cat that got the cream, except... ew, maybe too real. 

He's buzzing with satisfaction, bad similes aside. He's a superhero, basically. 

"Can I take your shirt off?" Johnny asked, hushed, and Mark sits up and rips it off himself, beyond any hesitation. He wipes his face hard with a clean section of the material before he tosses it away. Then, without warning, Johnny has him pressed back to the pillow and is tonguing over his nipple. It stiffens fast, under a jolt of sensation so out of nowhere it's almost separate from pleasure, but Mark likes it, so he just tugs Johnny's head closer.

"I'm not gonna last," he warns, but even the way he says it is lazy, unconcerned. Johnny's hand continues, undeterred, until he's got a loose grip on Mark's dick under his shorts. It's so good. Mark might be riding the high of Johnny's pleasure as much as his own, but there's just nothing like being touched by someone else, worked over by a strong, big hand. By Johnny.

"Gonna come for me, Mark?" Johnny asks, sounding slurry as he teases Mark's chest with his mouth. He sucks a mark by Mark's collarbone when Mark shivers, head lolling. 

"Yeah," Mark says, glorying in how Johnny handles him—much gentler than he did last time, but with no less focus—and the counterpoint of Johnny's tongue and teeth worrying his skin, his nipples so sensitive. "Oh, right now," he says, and he whites out with pulsing pleasure.

He comes to who knows how long after, dizzy, too warm, his body melting like there's some fantastic memory-foam mattress under him and not the horrid slab they pawn off on students. Johnny is tucked close, watching Mark's face and whatever journey it was just on.

"Wow," Mark says, blinking. He stretches his legs and arms as best he can to test that they're working. "I legit don't have words." 

Johnny laughs, and they end up kissing, taking lazy breaks to shut their eyes in the middle, until Mark loses any awareness of things that aren't Johnny's mouth, Johnny's warm skin, the clean scent of him under the smell of sex, and how he looks golden in the sunlight. They exist in this weird bubble where time has no meaning until Johnny's alarm goes off and he has to extract himself and return to real life, which sucks.

Once he's dressed, Johnny leans over Mark's bed and kisses him one last time, and Mark thinks he can feel him smiling, satisfied.

\---

"Mom, I swear, I'm eating enough. Do _not_ send me more money," Mark tries to discreetly screech into his phone, mindful of the fact that he's already taking up too much space on the sidewalk with his guitar case jutting behind him. Random people don't need to hear him spilling his business, too.

"I'm transferring it now," she says, and Mark groans as he sidesteps someone with a stroller. He's in a hurry, and he doesn't know if he's going to be able to politely end his conversation before he gets to the restaurant; his mom can really get going, and he didn't call her a lot over the last few weeks because of finals and, you know, stuff. "You don't have to spend it! Just think of it like a safety net."

"Oh, I'll spend it," Mark says, laughing even as he's pretending to be grumpy that his mom still babies him even though she always lectures about keeping to his budget. "You've just enabled so many tacos, you have no idea." 

He can see the street he's looking for up ahead, and her laughter and chatter sounds distant to him; his pulse has spiked, too, with the proximity. 

He told Johnny he was going to busk in a new location, get in as much time and practice as he could in the gap before summer session started and scope out some new haunts, and Johnny invited him for lunch with Ten because there's a place they like to go in the area, apparently. He's late because he got a few requests and a handful of bills he'll never say no to, and then his mom called when he was walking over after sending him like four text messages, so he answered. Now, being on the phone with his mom and everything she represents—the questions about girlfriends and classes and how Mark's been spending his time lately—feels too close when he's closing in on the very much impossible answers to those questions.

"I gotta go, I'm almost with my friends. I love you," Mark says in a hurry, hoping he doesn't sound weird.

"I love you, too, sweetheart. Please remember to check in, okay?"

He's slowed down, close to the restaurant, and can see through the glass to the rows of tables and patrons. Johnny and his friend are seated near the front.

"Okay, bye," Mark says, ending the call. 

He stays outside longer than he should, staring, even though if one of them looks in his direction he'll come off unhinged. Ten's smaller than he thought. Johnny's back is to him, but he's unmistakable. He's wearing a white t-shirt, stretched taut over his broad shoulders. There's gel in his hair.

Mark's never gone on an outing with a FWB's friends before. There is absolutely no precedent or etiquette guide for this. How did Johnny even explain inviting him along? "Hey, Ten, mind if I invite Mark, a total rando, to our roommate lunch?" 

There's a buzz in his pocket, probably Johnny texting him judging from the way it looks like he's on his phone, and Mark stops being a freak and takes a deep breath. He makes his way inside, communicates that his party is already seated, and apologizes like fifty times to patrons as he nearly whacks them with his guitar. Mark makes it to the table without having concussed anyone, and the relief of that has him sitting down and taking a sip of water without introducing himself, because apparently he was raised in a barn.

Ten is smiling at him like he's done something funny instead of just sipped water and ignored social niceties. "You're Mark!" he exclaims. He passes over a menu, then settles his chin on his hand to study Mark more, who is definitely blushing.

"Yeah, hi, sorry. I'm Mark!" He gives an attempt at a cheery wave. "Ten, right?"

Ten just smiles wider. 

The menu is unwieldy, or Mark is more nervous than he even thought, but he eventually manages to glance over it. "Wow, this looks really good. Johnny said you guys eat here a lot?"

Ten gives Johnny an inscrutable look at that, and Mark forces himself not to glance to his right and see what Johnny's expression does in return.

"They do a good brunch," is all Ten says. He's started playing with his earrings, and the unfaltering smile on his face is psychological warfare. Mark's trying not to be intimidated by every mythical story of Ten, the perfectionist; Ten, the prodigy dancer and linguist; and Ten, the dude who made it on the news for his campus activism. A few times, he catches himself staring at Ten, as if trying to convince himself this is real, then hurrying to glance back at his menu. "Johnny, you didn't tell me he was shy."

Mark chokes on his water, and he's lucky the menu is laminated. Johnny pats his back and says, on a long-suffering sigh, " _Ten_."

"What!" Ten says, covering his grin with his hand, his shoulders shaking. "I can't make an observation?"

As Mark's dabbing water with his napkin, Johnny leans close and murmurs into his ear, "Please ignore him. He's always like this."

"Mark," Ten sings, and Mark smiles despite himself, especially when Johnny's hand comes to rest on his thigh under the table. "You were busking at the park. Tell me everything."

"Uh, what do you wanna know?"

"How are your tips? What do you play? Are you any good?"

Johnny snorts. "You did not just ask him about money. Rude, Ten."

"I'm pragmatic. Mark, you strike me as a savvy businessman." Mark very much doubts this is true, but he's smiling anyway. "The tips are good, yes? Because you're talented?"

"I do all right," he says, thinking of the wad of cash in his pocket that will pay for this meal and a few more. It sure beats retail. "Why, you thinking of starting out? Want any advice? I'm happy to help."

This time, Ten's spreading smile feels genuine, and Mark settles in for what's sure to be an exhausting ping-pong match of a lunch, Johnny's hand still warm on his thigh.

\---

Ten peaces out after the meal, since there's no way he doesn't have better things to do, and Johnny and Mark take to strolling the sidewalk looking for a gelato place or something. Johnny makes noises about wanting coffee, so they stop in to a Starbucks for him to get something. Mark appreciates the A/C drying him off before he has to go outside and start sweating again.

Eventually, they meander almost to the park Mark was working at earlier, and he says as much as Johnny rattles his cup around to suck up the last remnants of his drink.

"Is it a good spot?" Johnny asks. Mark is squinting a bit in the direct sunlight, but Johnny remains cool as a cucumber in his sunglasses. Mark should really find his pair. "Do you think you'll busk here again?"

"Yeah, probably. I should try it on the weekend, I'm sure it's crazy busy then." He points to a bench, and by wordless mutual agreement, they sit, Mark setting his guitar case by his feet. One of his newer stickers is peeling off.

"You'll have to let me know when you do." When Mark tilts his head, Johnny rattles his cup again and says, "I'd like to watch you in action."

Mark finds himself weirdly touched by the prospect. Lucas watched him busk a few times, but mostly that was for videos to send his mom, and a few friends have run into him and tipped him, but most of his performance is at parties, or sometimes he'll sit on the quad and play quietly. That Mark, casual and no-pressure, is a lot different from the guy who has memorized many decades' worth of hits to accommodate requests, who stands for hours no matter the weather and has to cash out a whole bunch of quarters every week.

"Well," he says, chewing his lip and wondering how he feels about this, if it's weird, if Johnny is only being polite. "I can set up and play a few songs right now, if you want?"

With his eyes obscured, it's hard to tell exactly how Johnny reacts, but it seems positive. He sets his cup down and sits straight, eager. "For real?"

"I mean, I have my guitar. It's no thing, dude. Unless you need to get going?"

"No, I'm free. You really just… You don't need anything?"

"What do I need?" Mark laughs, already standing and bending to unbuckle his case. "I've got a captive audience. Any requests?"

"Surprise me."

He settles the strap across his chest and strums a few times, more to fiddle than anything else. Something buzzing in his nerves makes him think he's miscalculated a bit; he can play on a dime, it really doesn't bug him, but there's something about this being Johnny, who he has always wanted to impress and never really managed to, that has him unsure. 

It's so flattering that Johnny wants to see him play, though. It gives Mark the courage to start with some Frank Ocean, and Johnny laughs when he recognizes it, smiling as he watches. Johnny's such a good dude. He's going to make the world's best husband and dad someday; he's wasted on college flings, even if Mark is more than happy to reap the benefits.

He finishes Frank and feels a little silly, self-conscious in the aftermath. It's not Mark-at-work, not really; for starters, his case isn't open and waiting for money, and he's kind of standing three feet from Johnny, who is seated on the bench and gazing up at him. It's a performance for one.

"So," Mark says. "I basically do that until I can afford pizza."

Johnny slides his sunglasses down his nose and off, and his eyes are fond. "Another," he says, and he holds up a dollar bill he managed to get his hands on without Mark noticing. 

Mark laughs, and he plays through a few songs he enjoys and doesn't normally do in public so that he'll still enjoy them. Johnny's eyes never waver from him, and Mark drops a few notes under his attention but nothing too noticeable. He's slick with the sun and humidity, uncomfortable, even, now that he's not under a canopy of shade on the grass, but nothing can harsh the sweetness of the moment.

"We should probably get inside before I melt," Mark says regretfully, bending to put his guitar away and giggling when Johnny slips the dollar, and a few others, into Mark's pocket.

"Mmm, yeah, I'm pretty sure I'm sunburned." Johnny replaces his sunglasses, but Mark knows he's still looking straight at him under them. "So, uh," he starts, eyebrows going up and a knowing smile starting, "my place?"

Johnny Suh is going to _end him_. Mark sighs, resigned to his fate. "Yeah, your place."

**Author's Note:**

> I hope y'all enjoyed Mark and Johnny's lack of respect for refractory periods! They actually got (mostly) naked this time! 
> 
> Feel free to come and make friends with me on Twitter, where I post about NCT, Thai BL, and general nonsense: [@sneakethsnek](https://twitter.com/sneakethsnek).
> 
> Playlist:
> 
> Caroline Polacheck - So Hot You're Hurting My Feelings  
> Charlie XCX - claws  
> B.A.P. - Honeymoon  
> Umi - Love Affair  
> Harry Styles - Watermelon Sugar  
> Bazzi - Paradise  
> Dua Lipa - Cool  
> DPR LIVE - KISS ME


End file.
